I never know what to get anyone for insurrection anniversaries. I imagine the Senate Republican Conference is already up to its collective jowlsy gullet in pocket Constitutions, which doubtless remain unread anyway. Maybe just a picture frame? I can think of a few images those enabling fucks should be forced to look at every single day for the rest of their lives…

Anyway, congratulations everyone, on surviving one entire year of the feeblest imaginable gaslighting, perpetrated by the occupants of the sulfurous, subpar cloud of white rage that lingers around the vanquished husk of Donald John Trump like an overcooked steak fart. One whole year of the American Right piling lie upon lie, compounding their every mistake, and failing to learn a single fucking thing about anything.

(This space left intentionally blank to accommodate confetti and noisemakers)

Actually, I’m writing this on the 7th, the one-year anniversary of Betsy DeVos’ principled resignation from the lynch-mob-inciting Turd Reich in freefall, and goddamn if that way-too-little, years-too-late, utterly hollow gesture didn’t turn out to be the high-water mark for Republican ethics in this age of domestic political violence.

Even discussing the issue with our conservative friends typically proves…trying. Like, I appreciate that keeping shit straight amidst your weird little cult’s perpetually-shifting, frequently contradictory shared delusions must be difficult, with the whole rotten tower teetering ever more precariously with each new collision with reality (that stubborn bastard), but it’s your choices that landed you there. The rest of us made better choices. Sorry.

Watching y’all from the outside, it’s mostly just half of you pissing on the other half’s legs while everyone snickeringly insists it’s raining, switching shifts every so often, with high-fives all around over the runaway success of your tricksy deception. You’re welcome to defect to our side at any point, by the way. It’s pretty great, here in reality; we’re much less likely to die of Covid, and nobody pees on us.

So, Marjorie Taylor Greene, perhaps the largest, loudest mouth on the Lovecraftian fleshwad horror the Republican Party has become, got herself permanently banned from Twitter, for the very good reason that she refused to stop spreading enormous, damaging lies about, among other things, the pandemic; a small, but important victory for the forces of health, light, and life. Perhaps we can finally move on from this silly, squawking, Nazi twit.

Ha ha NOPE, lucky for you, Marj, Kevin McCarthy simply cannot fucking figure out how to quit you. Despite your seemingly limitless capacity for obscenity, your Minority Leader will forever have your back, whatever backwoods Goebbels turd falls out of your fool mouth next, because K-Dawg came to the United States Congress to appease fascists and separate Starbursts for tenth-rate dictators, and he’s all outta Starbursts!

…having dumped candy duty on an intern.

One thing I’ve learned these past few years…the secret ingredient in the rise of fascism is cowards. Recipe goes, “Season with cowards liberally and often. Let simmer, applying additional cowards at regular intervals.”

Anyway.   

Ohio Republican Senate candidate J.D. Vance, who I will remind you is somehow NOT THE CRAZY ONE in that race, responded to the eminently sensible deplatforming of a mendacious maniac by demanding social media companies be “crushed,” and in this humble blogger’s opinion, there should be fewer dudes in the Senate who talk like junior members of the Legion of Doom, not more.

Why is it so hard for the Republican Party to cut the fucking Nazis loose? I mean, we all know the answer, but it feels like something that should be asked out loud anyway. If we’re forced to endure the childish improv game Peter Doocy insists upon inflicting on Jen Psaki and the world, surely somebody can ask a few of these addled mediocrities to concisely describe the positive outcome they’re envisioning every time they yield another ten miles to their party’s brownshirt wing.

The tiger’s had its taste of human flesh, you can’t just put the genie back in the bottle here. It’s a…genie tiger, in this example…look, if you don’t like mixed metaphors, start your own fucking blog. You ain’t never had a friend like Donald Trump, is what I’m trying to say. These people don’t stop taking, it’s not in their nature. They will not be sated by the Sudetenland. DUH.

Left to their own devices, they will, in fact, literally gather under your party’s banner to offer prayers of gratitude to the treasonous scum that inflicted 140 casualties on Capitol law enforcement, as the Cobb County, GA GOP helpfully demonstrated. Honestly, what the fuck do you imagine happens AFTER the terrorist-worshipping rituals? I ask because Kyle Rittenhouse has become a walking, pockmarked, golden calf to your base.

Back on the steadily decaying institutional level, ol’ Johnny Isakson took one last hit for the team, offering his old caucusmates the excuse they desperately needed (his funeral) to be anywhere but Washington on the day the world reflected upon the Pandora’s Outhouse door they kicked open with their lies, greed, and fear-mongering. Oh, they sputtered out a sickly tweet or two, but dared not show their faces, for even now they understand history will know them as Those Who Were Tested and Found Mightily Fucking Wanting.

A perfectly good mint julep wound up spattered all over Senator Graham’s Mawmaw’s prized doilies, such was Lindsepher’s meticulously manufactured outrage at dastardly Joe Biden’s nefarious “politicization” of January 6th. Y’know, one of the cool things about being a Democrat is nobody requires clownish displays of blind loyalty to a pathological liar’s every passing fib. Incidentally, you shouldn’t give mint juleps to house pets, especially the frail, over-domesticated ones like Graham, it’s bad for them.

Stupefyingly, even after that choice bit of obsequiousness, Lindsey didn’t earn a single vote in the Cuck of the Week poll, because Rafael Edward Cruz just ran away with that shit. Teddy Boy is putting up Barry Bonds-like emasculation stats these days; he must be taking illegal, testosterone-diminishing drugs. When he spent four years suckling the buttocks of the cheap goon who insulted his wife and father, we thought we were witnessing the Ted Williams of sycophancy in his prime, but it turns out the guy was just getting warmed up.

Because holy shit, y’all. What Ted pulled on Tucker Carlson’s White Power Hour this week? It was his Guernica. A miracle of human achievement in the field of groveling. I fucking saw God.

If you happened to miss it, golly, you’re in for a treat. Get yourself a snack, you deserve it.

So, Tedward accidentally stumbled over just enough love of country to suggest in passing that terrorism is bad and ought not be encouraged, and when Carlson caught wind of that, he fuckin’ left work early to drag Ted to the woodshed. Tucker made Senator Cruz cut his own switch, you know what I’m saying?

And Ted sits there, live on the most watched news show on cable, and takes it and takes it and takes it, and begs for more. And on the level of watching one of the worst people alive debase himself, it’s certainly quality content. Trouble is, this is actually a phenomenally powerful human being, submitting, desperately and comprehensively, to the ringleader of a hate mob, and no fucking good will come of it. Once again, the secret ingredient is cowards.

After that…display, there’s not enough left of Cruz to spread on a Triscuit, and he thinks he can get elected President. Sad, sorry, old fop’s got one foot in the geek pit and doesn’t even know it yet.

Meanwhile, Ron Johnson thinks vaccines are a sacrilegious assault by arrogant scientists on God’s plan to weed out the weak with His Covid-y trowel, because while cowards make up the base of the dish, you want to sprinkle in a few mouth-breathing idiots, for flavor.

Thankfully, in the section of the federal government where the grownups work, Smilin’ Joe Biden put on his shitkickin’ boots, having previously procured matching sets of shitkickin’ boots for the speechwriting staff, and told a certain Deposed Dotard precisely where he can stick his Big Lie, which is up his loser bum, which lost by how many million votes by the way? Was it seven? It was, wasn’t it? It was SEVEN MILLION VOTES you lost by, loser.

It was kind of Joe to make time to throw those elbows, since he’s been pretty busy lately, repairing the damage a certain overmatched manchild inflicted to the American economy. And, lookin’ at the numbers, he’s doin’ a fine job of it, too.

Like a TikTok influencer angling the side of the energy drink can with the logo towards the camera, Tangerine Idi Amin offered up his vastly-diminished platform to Hungarian strongman Viktor Orbán, endorsing the petty thug’s “re-election campaign,” which really ought to tell you everything you need to know about the Americans he backs, don’tcha think?

And rest in peace the “Cyber Ninjas,” a shadowy cabal of Big Lie-spreading grifters that now disappears into the great wingnut beyond, taking centuries of bamboo fiber detection expertise with them. What a loss.

As fucked up as shit gets in Washington, at least we can take comfort that Congress is now, and shall remain, a Nunes-free zone. With so many of these treacherous weasels shielded by fash-friendly gerrymanders, I say it’s well worth celebrating any time we pry one of ‘em off the machinery of government. (Extends Tank 7 tallboy for cheers clink)

Well, despite the best efforts of a veritable legion of asshats, we held onto the ol’ republic for another whole year, not too shabby. Lotta work ahead on that front, I’m afraid, so, y’know…get some rest. And, as always, stay safe out there, friends…